


It’s the Assurance that Could Save Me

by jetblacklilac



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, It's a bit sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: Secrets are more valuable each day it isn't said. The price of hesitation is what Sansa has to pay in tears.





	It’s the Assurance that Could Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first lunsa fic ever and i'm proud to be the person to claim such a feat. this is dedicated to amparo

Sansa shivered at the slightest touch of the wind. 

She nearly loses it when someone so much as breathes next to her without causing painful flashbacks and panic attacks. Of course Margaery and Arya knew, they stood at a considerable distance but vigilantly watched over her. Their concern twisted their mouths in frowns and their stance gave an impression that they would hug her at any moment. 

But, the one who took it worse was Luke. The sweet, naive Luke that knew nothing of the recent assault to her and she intends on keeping it like this for as long as time permits. He knew the moment he returned from a trip something about her changed. She was often spotted staring into nothing, her complexion paled noticeably, and she concocted a reason of sleeping in the next room across of their joint one. 

_ “The bed is uncomfortable, it gives me back aches, my love, I shall order new ones, not to worry.” She supplies the deception with a tremulous smile but her insides quivered with each breath.  _

Luke was too considerate for his own good. And her husband did not ask a question about it all. He merely nodded and approached her for a chaste kiss.

That was when her throat swells up. The memories came barrelling in her thoughts, of his hands roughly pulled and his mouth aggressively kissed her with such intensity her mouth throbbed. She would shake anxiously and slam the door at his face. 

Her sister and her best friend have both actively encouraged her to tell him. She must retell the horrid nightmare to him, how a man’s presence sets her mind in frenzy, about the incident that occurred a few weeks ago. 

Sansa knew they mean well. But all she feared was the disappointment in his eyes or how she had an inkling fear she could never sleep next to him, much more if they kissed. Tears sprung to her eyes at that thought. Her shaky hands came to wipe the tears that fell to her cheeks. A sob escapes her throat, but she still stares at the window in front of her.

She remembers begging Luke on implanting the round marble fountain. In under a minute, he shrugged his shoulder. He handsomely grinned at her and agreed.

How things were simpler back then.

_ “It’ll be easier if you stopped struggling, love.”  He hoarsely growled against her throat. _

“Oh-Oh God...” Sansa mutters brokenly as she turns around and collapses against the wall. She wrapped her arms on her knees and brought them to her chest. She cries, sobs, and wails. She feels an ache in her chest that tightens when the haunted memory creeps back to the forefront. 

She covered her face with her hands, still sobbing, her body still shook with the tremor that she rocked herself back and forth. 

The pain she felt burned her skin, if the monster was rougher, she’d wear the bruises like physical taunts. She spent the first few days locked in her room and didn’t eat because the only action she could perform is to merely stare at walls. Ease made her lax and detached because Luke wouldn’t return in a few days more, so starving herself until then wouldn’t hurt.

Two days before his arrival though Sansa realizes Luke could not see her in this state. Her auburn locks he loves to run his fingers through were matted and badly knotted, her eyes were dull, and her pale skin was almost milky and stretched tight on her bones.

So she eats, bathes and presents pretence of herself to him.

The show continues for a few more weeks and yet he endures the pain of distance without a question. They dine together after work, relax in the living room in silence or watch movies, and they part ways in the bedroom.

Or maybe he has found another lover. Lord knows how easy on the eyes he was and how he could charm any being on the planet.

_ I will accept it _ . Sansa decides as more tears fell and she closes her eyes for a moment. If Luke found comfort in someone else’s arms then so be it. So long as he was happy.

The feel of his mouth, his disgusting groans and moans made Sansa scream for a second. The waves in her chest rolled down in waves on her cheeks, shining them under the wane moonlight, sobs dripping down her mouth but nothing could lessen the burden in her heart; not even the wedding ring on her left hand.

In her blurry vision, she sees the door slam open. She winces at the impact and sees Luke standing by the doorway. 

“My love.....” He whispers her name in such a distressed tone it caused her to bite her lip until she felt the blood drip down her palm. It was the same tactic she did when he was tormenting her. She flinched; the blood now spreads on her palm as she clenches her hands against the rug, the green in her veins surfacing at her exerted effort.

“Don-Don’t come closer, please.” Sansa begs; her throat hurts from the crying. She briefly glanced at him and saw the hurt in his bright eyes, but he hides it and crouches in front of her.

“Darling, what happened?” Luke gently asked that her bottom lip quivered. His voice almost chased away the dark in her thoughts but in time, in her isolation, they grew courageous and merely danced at the edges of her mind. They lingered, each second, each touch and sound conquered her senses.

After all the weeks of not touching, of not kissing or cuddling, he still was there for her, distantly of course. At times, Sansa swears Luke figured it out but he has never confronted her of his suspicions.

“I-I do not deserve you.” She mutters, her eyes on her shaking hands. She placed them on top of her knees and looks at him. She couldn’t stutter out anything else because Luke being in the dark with her is a peculiar occurrence. He’s an angel, Sansa used to giddily proclaim to her sister. So how come he’s both surrounded by darkness? What right does Sansa have to drag him into the void?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He softly asks and approaches her.

But when he was in arm’s reach, Sansa felt his hands at her shoulders, roughly pushing her dress that she gasps; a shattering inhale of air and her husband stops his intentions of comforting his wife.

He frowned. “It’s me who doesn’t deserve an angel like you.” He softly said with a love filled expression she felt tears welled up in her eyes once more. 

“I tru-truly apologize for not being a wife to you. I-I just...” What can she say? What  _ should  _ she say? The lie of mattress is quite obvious. In addition, Sansa is tired. Her heart is heavy in her chest, her mind is exhausted from tossing the same jagged edges she became desensitized. Oddly, she can’t sleep. She’s tired but her mind is depressingly alert.  

“What is it, Sansa? Ever since my trip you’ve been distant. Is it because I’m often away? I promise you I won’t be that far away from you ever.” He vows, his words coated in seriousness. He didn’t use any of his beloved nicknames and now she knows he’s truly concerned for her. Sansa shivered at the chill of her own tears and stared down at the splashes of her velvet robe. 

“Luke.... “ She had to confess it. She has to admit to her own husband. “When you were gone, the ladies and I were invited to a banquet. I was bored and Margaery insisted that it would be nice to not be cooped up in the house after work.” Sansa starts with great hesitance but is motivated by the encouraging nod from Luke. She couldn’t maintain eye contact with Luke, not with his eyes shone with kindness and understanding.

“It is all right if you kissed or slept with another person.” He quietly said, but his words were low and his jaw set tight.

Sansa shakes her head, softly crying no, her sobs are silent but Luke hears it anyways. She knew by the look in his eyes he wanted to hug and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. “My sweet love, he-he gave me a glass of wine and pulled me aside to one of the rooms. I felt sleepy. Then-he and I resisted-he forced himself and I....” Her words trip over themselves out of anxiety and clenching her robe doesn’t alleviate the pain. 

She didn’t care that her hair was messy and the ones close to her heart shaped face was soaked in her tears, her eyes were bloodshot and watery or that her cheeks glistened under the moonlight; like a stagnant river on polished stone.

Sansa tilts her head up to see Luke. She witnesses a million expressions on his face. But one outshined them all; protectiveness over her. She saw shock, curiosity, profound rage then an overwhelming look of protectiveness that she felt her stomach fluttered.

“Who.... was it...?” Luke bit out, his hands in tight balls and his knuckles turned white as the moon. He dared to gaze upon her, assuring himself she is safe and breathing. Not alive, Sansa is a shell of herself for now. She saw the profound love he has for her and the urge to protect her from the evil things. He reached to his cheeks and wiped the stubborn tears away.

“It-It was Ramsay Bolton.” She answers.

He nodded, the vein in his throat pulsed. He must be livid, she realized. An exceedingly rare, blue moon level of rareness, circumstance could quake his gentle soul. Sansa notes the tight coil clenching his jaw and the rigidness of his stance. He almost had an instinct to sprint out the room and find the man in this instance.

“Luke.” She whimpered. In a fraction of a second he turns to her. “I never thought a kiss could hurt. He-he kissed me too much and-and...” she trails off and so does her eyes as she stares into nothing.

“My love, I know I cannot comfort you physically, but know that I love you and I will never let anything harm you in any way again.” Luke swore. If he was anything, he is a man who carries the belief of good in him, enticing a halo to hover on his head. His lulling words coated in veneration, could’ve fooled her if not for the Bolton.

She smiles softly. “I love you too.”

Luke stood up that she frowns. He lets a small smile twist his lips. “You, my darling, must sleep.” He cooed. He didn’t offer his hand and slowly walked out the door.

“Wait.” Sansa blurted before she knew what had happened.

Her husband turns in question. “Yes, my love?”

Sansa’s cheeks flush red.  She scans the room and smiles ever so lightly. “Can you sleep on that couch? I’m so sorry, but I still can’t sleep next to anyone, yet I want to know you’re here with me.” She explained and pointed to the couch near the window that sat at the foot of the bed. “You make me feel safe and it was silly to not tell you this the moment you came back.”

Luke nodded. “I understand what you had to do, my love. And I’m honoured that I provide you comfort at this times.” He crossed the room and lies on the couch. He fluffs the cushions and positions himself.

Sansa scurries to the bed, the bigger bed. It was cold to the touch, far too big for her frame. She peeks at Luke and saw his back faced to her. “Are you alright, honey?” She called out; her voice cracks in the wrong places but the sweetness of her affections can be heard.

He twisted so he faced her with a mirth smile. “Yes, I am fine, darling. Now go get your beauty sleep, not that you need one anyways.” He urges. 

She beams and laid down the bed. She pulled the blankets to her chin and stares at the ceiling. She tries to relax, tries to push the memory out of her mind, but she just can’t. It keeps on flashing at the forefront of her mind. She takes another peek and finds that Luke’s arm is on the floor and he was snoring loudly.

She lovingly smiled at that image. Maybe, just maybe she could get some sleep tonight.


End file.
